Release
by justinxx
Summary: Harley lets go of her rage toward Mistah J on some poor Belle Reve guards. Suicide Squad inspired.


Every day in this stinker makes me miss him even more. I miss his piercing emerald eyes and the way they light up when he comes up with new ways of torturing people. I miss the contagious laugh that turns my cheeks red, that decay the frantic butterflies deep in my stomach for something much sweeter. I miss caressing his sickly pale skin, tracing over every tattoo, scar, and bullet hole with my fingers, the skin just like mine. I miss his bloody red lips pushed against mine amidst a shootout with the pigs of Gotham, smearing our lipstick across our bleached faces. I miss running around with him and robbing the closest store just for the fun of it, as long as we were together and raising hell. I miss squeezing his hand tight while we skip over piles of dead bodies, throwing money around and not caring who got in our way. Hell, I long for that feeling of electricity flowing through my body as we try to outrun stupid old Bat-brain, even if we knew we had nowhere to run. I miss my beautiful clown prince, my other half, my jester in bulletproof armor.

My Mistah J.

No. No, no, _no_.

You've gotta stop doing this to yourself, Harley. You've moved on. That creature is no longer part of your life and you have to accept that. He treated you bad and this is his punishment. You don't need him anymore. You'll find someone else who makes you feel the way that he did. Maybe some boy in Metropolis will set you straight. You're going to be fine without him.

Right?

But what if I'm not?

 _Then you'll find a way to deal with it. He hurt you and you don't deserve that._

But what if I do deserve it?

 _Stop being silly, Harley._

But he made me who I am. You can't just forget someone like that. You can't leave behind someone who gave you a reason to live. The scars don't heal like that.

 _You don't have to be the person he molded you into. You can start over, get out of Gotham, be anyone you want, go back to being a psychiatrist again. You can get your old life back and live a normal life._

But what if I don't want to be normal?

Feedback. Silence.

Hello?

The line goes dead. I guess the voices hang up. It's good talking with them. They're the only ones willing to listen to my problems without hurting me. Those stupid Belle Reve psychiatrists try but I won't crack. I know every trick and gimmick in the book. I know how they work. They seem to forget that I was a psychiatrist. I'm not as dumb as I look. I sigh. This situation reminds me of a bad joke.

I'm pushing my temple against the cold, shackled bars of my cell, bored out of my mind. Armed men stand around my cell, watching my every move with stern looks on their faces. Maybe I can get these bozos to lighten up?

"Can you guys stop with the brooding? Only Bird-brain can pull that look off. You're all trying too hard and it's _very_ noticeable" I announce, the echo of my voice filling the stuffy room.

They remain with pursed lips and dull expressions. I sigh loudly, banging my head against the cool bars.

"Can a girl have a little fun? Come on, lighten up. Can't we all just be friends?"

No response. I pout. These guys are boooring.

Kicking my feet against the bars, wondering what to do, I break out of my fit as I hear slow footsteps clang from above. My eyes dart upward as a woman peers through a wired gate. I can barely make out what she looks like. Dark skin, mahogany jacket. She seems a little too serious for my taste.

"Are you the devil?" I mockingly ask her.

"Stop joking around, Quinzel. I imagine you've figured out why you're here?" she demands in a booming voice. I smirk.

"You bet'cha! Now what do you want me to do?" I ask playfully, imagining the amount of fun I could have.

A moment goes by.

"You'll know specifics when you rendezvous with the other freaks. As for now, if you'd like to keep that pretty face of yours bruise-less, I'd suggest making my men's jobs easy as we put you under. You're too much of a risk and you might upset the other inmates here" she states.

I giggle.

"It'll be easy as 1-2-3!" I promise.

She walks away and a rush of excitement takes me over. _Oh, things'll be easy, alright. Easy for me!_

The men rush toward my cell as a buzzer rings, unlocking the door to my prison. They raise their weapons as they storm in and I put my hands up. As they begin to surround me, I put my hands behind my head.

 _Come on, come on, come on!_

A stupid guard grabs my wrist and I laugh. I spin around and strike his knee cap, busting his leg as I trip the closest guard to my right. His gun drops and I catch it as I headbutt the stock against another guard's head.

I haven't felt this exhilarated and free in so long!

My shrill laughter fills the room as I jump on a guard's shoulders, banging his head with my fists. I'm yanked by my dull orange jumpsuit and I tumble to the ground, greeted with unfriendly kicks to the stomach by an unfortunate guard.

Ignoring the pain and laughing even more, I spin and trip him with my legs and land a solid hit to his face. I can't help but take my anger out on him. With each hit to his bloodied face, I'm letting go of the anger I have with myself for still loving Mistah J. I'm releasing the anger of being cooped up in this colorless cell for so long without any fun. I'm imagining that this guard is Mistah J as I break more of puddin's teeth. I'm jabbing the emerald eyes that I despise so much and I'm cursing the laugh that makes me want to vomit. I'm shredding the bleached skin that I hate to share with him and I'm painting his lips with his own blood. I don't deserve what he did to me and I don't need him. I _will_ be fine without him. Someday…

A needle is inserted in my neck. My vision becomes fuzzy. Tears fall along my cheeks as I'm being yanked from stupid old Mistah J. I don't care that I didn't kill all these jerks for locking me up in here or that I wasn't really hurting Mistah J. I don't care that I might die on this mission or that I'll never be able to live a normal life again. All I care about is that I got the chance to release my rage, even if it was for a short while. This was more than the psychiatrists here could ever do.

I'm pushed against a gurney and the remaining guards tightly strap me in. I'm trying to wriggle free from these restraints the best I can but my body is becoming sluggish. My dull orange jumpsuit is now torn and covered in wet blood. I've stopped crying and my heart rate is slowing. Only one thought runs through my messed up head as my eyes begin to close, realizing that I'll be free of this prison soon.

 _This'll be fun!_


End file.
